


Sunstroke

by rangerhitomi



Category: Yu-Gi-Oh! Zexal
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), First Kiss, Hiking, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-24
Updated: 2015-02-24
Packaged: 2018-03-14 20:37:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,635
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3424766
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rangerhitomi/pseuds/rangerhitomi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Yuma and Ryoga go on a hiking trip that goes horribly awry.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sunstroke

The blazing sun beat down on the cracked earth, the hot breeze blowing the loose dirt in swirls around two figures scampering over low hills. One wore a determined expression as he climbed a particularly steep hill, the other a weary one, dragging himself slowly up the hill despite his legs feeling like dead weights.

"Just one more, Shark," the first young man had encouraged for the past three hours as they climbed countless hills. "We’ll find the path again if we just get to a good height."

But the fruitless attempts to figure out where they had gone wrong, where the real path was, failed time after time. They were far from the creek that ran alongside part of the path they had taken before unknowingly veering into the wilderness before realizing they had no idea where they were.

Shark tried to move his fingers but they were swelling at an alarming rate and bright red to boot. He dragged himself a few more yards up the tenth hill before collapsing in the pleasantly cool shade of a scraggly coniferous tree. His companion walked back and sat next to him, holding out a small bag of peanuts. “You should eat something, you haven’t eaten in nearly five hours.”

"I’m not hungry, Yuma."

Yuma grabbed Shark by the wrist and held it up, examining the hand closely.

"Your fingers are swelling and your fingernails have no color left," he said, biting his lip.

"I noticed," Shark mumbled. Yuma released his wrist but, to Shark’s discomfort, laid the back of his hand across Shark’s cheek.

"You’re burning up but you aren’t sweating much at all," Yuma mused, half to himself. "Have you been drinking enough?"

Shark couldn’t make himself look exasperated at how Yuma was treating him for all the world like a fussy mother would baby her sick child. But he held up his remaining water bottle, half-empty, having drunk the others along the way. “I don’t have much left,” he admitted quietly. “I brought as much as I thought I would need for the paths we had planned on taking.”

Yuma wordlessly seized a bottle from his backpack and, before Shark could object, pressed it to Shark’s lips. Shark obediently drank the warm water, which felt as refreshing as an ice cold drink to his parched throat. “Thank you,” he said as Yuma released the bottle from his lips and pressed it into Shark’s swollen fingers.

"Your face is flushed. Is your head hurting? Are you dizzy?" Yuma had taken a handkerchief from his bag and wet it with a small amount of water from his remaining bottle before dabbing at Shark’s face with it.

"Don’t waste that on me," Shark mumbled, feebly pushing Yuma’s hand away, but Yuma determinedly placed the handkerchief around Shark’s neck, which admittedly felt very nice.

"Shark, you’re moving from heat exhaustion into the early stages of heat stroke," Yuma said slowly and clearly. "Don’t tell me that I’m wasting anything on you when you could die without it." He wrapped his fingers around Shark’s wrist again and lifted the bottle to his mouth. "Drink the rest of this and stay in the shade. I’ll be right back." As he made to stand up, Shark looked up, startled.

"Where are you going?"

Yuma smiled gently at his friend. “Just to the top of the hill. I’m going to look around for the creek. I’ll be back before you know it.”

Shark watched Yuma scamper up the hill with an increased awareness of how exhausted he was. His legs felt like lead, his muscles ached, and he was lightheaded. His feet also felt like they were pulsating with blisters, which wasn’t something he was looking forward to seeing when he finally got around to removing his boots. He couldn’t help but feel a bit envious of Yuma’s level of energy - it wasn’t as though Shark were out of shape; he worked very hard to maintain a good physical condition - while he sat around under a tree suffering from heat stroke. Either Yuma had far more energy than any human being should ever have, or he was covering up his fatigue for Shark’s sake. Regardless, he was glad Yuma was familiar with heatstroke. He assumed Yuma had picked up a lot of wilderness survival tips from his childhood spent camping with his father. This particular trip was one Yuma had undergone as a young boy and wanted to recreate. Shark smiled to himself as he remembered Yuma’s eagerness to invite him to go hiking -  _I want to make precious memories of an enjoyable experience with my dearest friend._

His smile slid from his face as Yuma hopped back down the hill, a grim look on his face.

"No luck?" he asked hoarsely.

Yuma took a deep breath. “Not exactly. I found a creek about a mile and a half that way.” He pointed vaguely to his left.

"Well, then what’s the problem?" Shark sat up a little too quickly, wincing as his vision swam from the dizziness.

Yuma placed his hand on his friend’s shoulder and coaxed him back into the shade. “It’s not the right creek.”

"I don’t… understand."

Yuma chuckled humorlessly. “We’re five miles north of where we were supposed to be.”

"Well, it’s still  _a_  creek, right? That’s better than nothing?”

"I suppose, if the creek wasn’t in a little fissure fifteen feet deep on both sides," Yuma said darkly. He looked at Shark’s crestfallen face and his face softened. "Never mind that right now. When you get some rest, we’ll head over and climb down into the fissure. We’ll head out in a couple of hours, when the sun starts to go down. It should only take us about half an hour to get over to it and you’ll have enough energy to climb it, I know you will."

Yuma sat down next to Shark and gazed out on the dry, cracked wasteland below them. They sat in silence for nearly half an hour before Yuma spoke. “I’m sorry.”

Shark looked up at him. “For?”

"Getting lost." Yuma smiled sheepishly. "I forgot my compass, and I’m really embarrassed about that. We might not have gotten so hopelessly lost if I had remembered it." He glanced up at the sun. "I’m not very good at telling direction with the sun’s movement either."

"We’ve had quite the adventure." Shark found his eyes suddenly very heavy. He was very tired. "I don’t know how you’ve had the energy for it, though."

Yuma glanced over as Shark closed his eyes. He gently took the handkerchief from Shark’s neck, wet it down a little more, and placed it on the sleeping teen’s forehead.

"I don’t," he whispered as Shark drifted to sleep. "I’m just trying to be strong for you the same way you’ve been strong for me all these years."

* * *

 

Shark stirred as Yuma gently shook his shoulders. He had no idea how long he had been asleep, only that the blurry outline of the sky was tinged with orange and pink. It had to have been more than two hours.

"Can you stand?" Yuma whispered.

Shark mumbled incoherently and carefully pulled himself to a sitting position. A dry handkerchief fell from his forehead as he took a few breaths to dispel the dizziness threatening to overcome him again. “I think so,” he said shakily.

Yuma knelt down and wrapped an arm around his friend’s shoulders and his other hand around his forearm, gently helping him up. “It’s cooler now, so it should be easier to get you moving without triggering more symptoms.” Shark nodded and bent down to pick up his backpack, squeezing his eyes against a sudden bout of nausea.

Yuma looked concerned, but Shark waved it off. “Let’s go.”

Shark’s legs still felt heavier than he had ever experienced in his life, but with a newfound determination to get back on the path and find a trailhead with a way to contact someone to come pick them up, he found he had more energy - or maybe it was from the much-needed sleep he had gotten. He wondered briefly whether Yuma had slept but his friend had his determined blaze in his eyes again - the same  _bringin’ it to ‘em_  look he had possessed since Shark first met him five years ago.

They climbed over rocks and up and down small inclines for nearly half an hour, with Yuma leading the way. Every so often, Shark’s legs would nearly give out on him and Yuma would reach back without a sound and grasp Shark’s hand. Sometimes he wouldn’t let go and Shark would find himself led along with his fingers laced with Yuma’s until Yuma required use of both of his hands to scramble over a rock or to fight his way through dry brush. Each time, his stomach would clench, and he wasn’t entirely sure it was due to nausea, though he halfheartedly tried to convince himself that was what it was.

Finally, they reached the fissure where Yuma had spotted the stream, and the sky was a deep purple. He squinted down the steep sides and frowned. “It might actually be twenty feet deep,” he said with very little enthusiasm. He gave Shark a worried glance. “Will you be okay?”

Shark nodded jerkily.

With a deep breath, Yuma knelt down and began climbing down. “I’ll go first and test out the strength of the wall, okay? And I can light a fire so it’ll be easier to see. I think we should camp by the creek tonight, since there’s plenty of room down there.”

Shark nodded again and leaned over the side as he watched Yuma slowly feel his way down the wall. After a few minutes, Yuma hopped the remaining two feet down and called back up to Shark. “It seemed all right, but still be careful.”

With a feeling of trepidation, Shark felt his way to the edge and began the slow descent. He was still fifteen feet up when he felt one of the rocks he was grasping with his right hand break off.

The fall felt like it lasted forever, yet he barely registered anything more than Yuma yelling his name and a sharp pain shoot through his arm.

* * *

 

When he opened his eyes next, he was staring at a beautiful canvas of stars directly above him. Next to him was a small fire built from paper and dried brush, and he was blissfully aware that the night brought a significant drop in temperature. As his eyes focused, he saw Yuma hunched over him, carefully wrapping his right wrist tightly in the same handkerchief he had used to keep cool.

"Shark!" Yuma sounded relieved as he tied off the end of the handkerchief. "I’m so glad… I worried you might be unconscious longer. I think you sprained your wrist, so I wrapped it to make it less painful. I don’t think it’s broken, though."

Shark struggled to sit up and became more aware of the pain in his newly splinted wrist and in his head. Yuma wrapped his arm around Shark’s shoulders as he leaned him against the fissure wall. Shark flinched at the pain.

"I don’t think hiking is good for me," he said with a pitiful stab at lightening the situation. He looked at the splint. "Looks like I’ll have to go back to the hospital when we get out of here. I’ve spent half my life there thanks to you." He grinned weakly. "If I don’t stop hanging out with you, I might end up dead next."

Yuma laughed nervously, not entirely sure if Shark was joking or just trying to make Yuma worry less. Either way, it didn’t help.

An awkward silence passed as Yuma shuffled through his bag for something to eat, though he had quite lost his appetite after everything that had happened to his best friend.

"Yuma."

Shark grabbed Yuma’s hand with his good one, an intent look in his eyes.

Yuma’s eyes flicked up to meet Shark’s. “Yes?”

"When I was falling, there was… just a moment…" Shark frowned. "Just a moment when I thought I heard you yell my name."

Whatever Yuma was expecting, it wasn’t this. “Well, it’s kind of instinctive now, you know?” He grinned weakly. “Maybe if you stopped getting yourself hurt, I would yell it less-“

Shark shook his head. “No, you didn’t yell ‘Shark’ like you usually do. This was… my name. I heard you call me ‘Ryoga.’”

This pause was more uncomfortable than the first, and Yuma shifted, acutely aware that Shark was still grasping his hand. He didn’t speak. He had yelled the name without thinking; he wasn’t even aware of it until Shark mentioned it…

"In the five years we’ve been friends, you’ve never called me by my real name," Shark said quietly.

"Well, it’s your name and it’s a nice name," Yuma said almost defensively to the fissure wall. He slid his hand from Shark’s and stoked the fire absently with a dry stick he had acquired somewhere.

"It’s nice hearing you say it." The honesty in Shark’s words surprised even himself.

Yuma dropped the stick in the fire and swallowed hard. “Sha…  _Ryoga_ …” The name felt different, pleasant, on his tongue…

He scooted closer, closing the gap between them. Ryoga’s heart pounded so heavily against his ribs that he was surprised Yuma didn’t hear it. His throat tightened uncomfortably and his breathing became quicker as Yuma leaned closer…

Their noses touching, Yuma froze. Ryoga could feel his warm exhalations, watched his lips tremble for what seemed like an eternity. Then, when Ryoga was beginning to wonder if Yuma would back off after all, Yuma plunged forward and pressed his trembling lips to Ryoga’s dry ones in a hesitant kiss.

Ryoga’s lips parted, part in surprise and part in anticipation, but before he could respond to this sudden gesture, Yuma pulled away, eyes wide in terror.

"I’m…" He swallowed hard again and Ryoga could see his shoulders trembling. "I’m really sorry about… about that."

Ryoga’s own breathing was shallow and he was very aware of the way his tongue flickered out to wet his cracked lips.

"I’ve never done that before," Yuma began before Ryoga reached out with his good arm and grasped Yuma by the back of the head, pulling his lips to Ryoga’s once more.

"I haven’t either," Ryoga breathed as Yuma inhaled sharply. The pair experimented awkwardly to find the right way to match up their lips as Yuma pulled himself closer, unsure what to do with his hands and winding up placing them on Ryoga’s shoulders. Ryoga rested his splinted arm over Yuma’s shoulders, his other hand tracing Yuma’s jawline, which elicited a small whimper from the recipient. Finally, they thought they had the hang of it, and as their lips slid gently over the other’s, Yuma slid a hand down Ryoga’s arm, fumbling for his splinted hand. Ryoga took it gently and laced their fingers, ignoring a spike of pain through his wrist as they finally broke apart at the lips.

Yuma’s breathing was heavy as he gazed at his best friend. “Um, I-I found a slope leading into the fissure when you were unconscious.” He pointed shakily up the stream. “It should lead us straight to the trailhead and we can call someone for help there. I should have mentioned it earlier, but…” He trailed off apologetically.

Ryoga gave Yuma a small smile and a slight shake of the head. “I’m feeling very tired. We can set out at sunrise, I’m sure I’ll feel fine by then.”

Yuma returned the smile and huddled up with Ryoga against the blissfully cool night air as their small fire flickered to embers.

He certainly had made special memories with his dearest friend.


End file.
